Page 56 of Boomer

The explosion ripped through the structure behind them, closer, sharper, more surgical than the flash charge up front. The concussion blasted outward. A fireball blossomed for only a second before being sucked inward, drawing smoke and metal fragments like the breath of something dying.

Boomer felt the heat sear past him, then the shockwave slammed into his back.

Everything wentwhite.

“Boomer. Boomer, do you copy? Christ! Boomer, respond!” Breakneck’s voice ripped through the ringing in his ears.

He groaned, his lungs catching on smoke and blood. He rolled onto his side, vision spinning. Dust was falling like snow. The air was thick with it, acrid and choking.

“Boomer here,” he rasped. “Taylor’s down. Unresponsive. Still breathing. Kodiak…”

His gut clenched. Nothing but silence.

“Hazard? Preacher? Ice? GQ? Fuck! Anyone!” Boomer said desperately, his voice cracking.

Silence, then Bash’s clipped reply, “Sending overwatch now. You need to move, structure’s compromised.”

Boomer didn’t wait.

Taylor was crumpled beneath him, her face smudged with soot, a gash along her temple pulsing dark. He checked her vitals. Pulse, stronger now. Breathing, shallow, but steady.

Relief almost buckled him.

“Not today,” he whispered.

Boomer hauled Taylor into his arms, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder, the wet warmth under his plate carrier.

He ran.

Smoke. Shattered glass. A corridor collapsed behind him. Heat blistered the walls. The exit window loomed ahead, half-blown out, a jagged maw of light and grit.

Boomer didn’t slow.

“Get out front. I’ve got wounded in here. The door’s blocked. We’re digging out. Fire is getting out of control!”

He kicked low, cleared debris with one arm, and shoved through, pulling Taylor with him.

They spilled into the alleyway. Fresh air slammed into him like salvation.

Local responders were just arriving—fire crews, tactical medics. A cluster ran toward the front entrance.

Boomer staggered to his feet. “They’re trapped in there!” he roared. A firefighter and several of his teammates headed for the twisted front doors with shovels and axes. Boomer dropped to his knees, Taylor still in his arms. “Break,” he muttered. “We’re out. We’re alive.”

Breakneck’s voice came, this time softer. “Copy that, brother. Sit tight. We’re coming to you.”

Boomer looked down at Taylor, still unconscious, still warm, still breathing.

Andhis.

Even now.

Especially now. He looked at the warehouse. It was going to give, and his brothers were in there. Torn in two. He motionedan EMT over. “Take care of her,” he muttered, then rose and ran toward the fire.

Taylor’s worldcame back in fragments. Cool air tinged with smoke. Distant sirens. The acrid sting in her lungs.

Her head lolled, cheek pressed to rough gravel. She coughed once, blinking against the haze. She tried to sit up, her limbs protesting, but she managed, determined to find him. Her heart dropped. “Boomer?” she rasped. She looked around, chaos in motion. Fire crews shouting. Medics moving stretchers. Iceman with blood on his temple, barking orders. Breakneck pacing like a caged wolf.

But no Boomer.